Mimesis
by BlackxRose19
Summary: In moments like this, they remember what they saw in each other. Olaf/Esmé


**A/N: **Hey guys! This was written for the 1sentence Community at LiveJournal; this is theme set Beta.

Warnings: Contains small references to onesided Violet/Olaf. Contains a giant abuse of grammar and semi-colons. Contains some things that are simply my head-canon for this pairing.

Also: "stupidity", "wonder", and "quiet" can be read alone, but are meant as a sequence of three.

Mimesis:\n\The imitation or representation of aspects of the sensible world, especially human actions.

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**.walking.**

He always holds her hand too tight, like a parent leading an errant child away to be punished, and he never seems to consider her shoes or their height difference as he drags her along, but the stares they get are heated and jealous and the tiny thrill that gives her makes it all worth it.

**.waltz.**

Hand on her waist, he leads her across the floor, smiles like a cat that's just found its canary, and she looks into his eyes and for the first time in her young life, she is terrified.

**.wishes.**

When she's five, she wants to be the best daughter for her father who always wanted a son; when she's a teenager, she wants to be the best in her acting class; when she's an adult, she wants to be the best villainous girlfriend; when it's too late she realizes she always wanted to be something for someone else.

**.wonder.**

You only have to hold her for a moment to notice the change and as you snake your fingers down to press against her stomach, whisper _is it mine?, _you're not sure what you want the answer to be.

**.worry.**

The day she learns that pinstripe suits are out, Esmé viciously burns every scrap of the offending fabric in her wardrobe, and Olaf shudders to think what will happen when villainous boyfriends are no longer in.

**.whimsy.**

In moments like this, they remember what they saw in each other.

**.waste/wasteland.**

_Eighteen_, she lies and he smirks, presses her up against the wall, fingers on the buttons of her blouse, _No you're not_, he breathes into her ear, but his lips find her neck all the same.

**.whiskey and rum.**

He drinks too much, he always has, she remembers how those late night "student-teacher conferences" happened, and she doesn't particularly like the taste of wine, in the glass or on his lips, but when he drinks, he's_ honest_, and for that she is thankful.

**.war.**

Esmé doesn't care who they kidnap, as long as it isn't Klaus, but when Olaf suggests _Violet_ with that hungry, shiny look in his eyes, she hastily amends her decision, snarling _The baby_; what follows in an hour long shouting match about the pros and cons of each sister (Olaf has far too many Violet-related pros for her liking) and for once in her life, she misses Jerome, who would never dare argue with her.

**.weddings.**

Even though this was his idea, even though this is all part of the plan, he responds to the invitation with a five-page letter, listing in precise detail the numerous reasons why he doesn't wish to see her get married to "that great, wishy-washy oaf", the last of which is scrawled at the bottom, almost as an afterthought: _because you should be with me_**.**

**.birthday.**

He gives her a book of matches and a promise he knows he won't keep; she gives him herself and he laughs as he takes what's already his.

**.blessing.**

The night he tells her his new plan, she scratches him hard enough to draw blood, breathes _consider that my blessing_ into his ear, and storms off without another word.

**.bias.**

_I thought you didn't believe in second chances_, he snaps, and he is hurt, most of all, but anger suits him better, so he chooses to rage at her for the next few minutes, gripping the payphone painfully tight in his hands; when the shouting stops, silence rings in his ears, punctuated only by the shallow breathing on the other line, and the cold, calm voice that replies, _I do. I just don't believe in giving them to _you_._

**.burning.**

It's a caustic, poisonous, fast burning, eat-each-other-alive kind of deal where screaming and fighting is the only constant, she lies on the floor, breathes, _what are we doing?_, he smirks, poetry drips from his lips, _darling, the flame that burns twice as bright burns half as long._

**.breathing.**

It's easy to believe in things in the dark, believe that she's someone else, but the lights come up and she's too tall, too thin, her hair's too dark, the nails that drag down his skin are too sharp, and he buries his face in his pillow because he isn't sure what's real anymore.

**.breaking.**

He grabs her by the wrist, bruising, squeezing, _it hurts it hurts it hurts_, his face is angry and twisted, he's been drinking way too much, every vicious word slurring into the next; she looks back and wonders if this is when things started to fall apart, and if she was just too stupid to realize it.

**.belief.**

_He gave me the auction catalogue, we looked at it, and he left_, she shrugs, and Jerome nods, okay, alright, no arguing here, and she lets him believe what he wants, because the less he _knows_, the better.

**.balloon.**

He gives the necklace to Lulu, _she tells me about the Baudelaires, sweetheart, what else am I supposed to do?_, and she grabs his gift to her, the offensively shiny heart-shaped thing from the hospital, pops it with one long fingernail, and storms off before he can apologize for the _tenth _time.

**.balcony.**

They slip out, hand in hand, _no one will miss us_, he pushes her up against the wall, one arms curls around her waist, pulls their hips flush, and she gasps, bites her tongue, he smiles and puts a finger to her lips, _shh, your parents think I'm just your acting teacher._

**.bane.**

_That stupid fucking orphan_, she snarls, practically screams, and she doesn't have to tell him how she feels, she's made it perfectly clear, but all the explanations in the world won't ease her paranoia.

**.quiet.**

She pulls away, crosses her arms over her stomach, says nothing, and as footsteps draw near, you look up, notice her pathetic excuse for a husband hovering behind her; she shakes her head once and that gesture is all the answer you need.

**.quirks.**

He watches her tape pieces of lettuce to her body and wonders when this stopped being cute and started making him regret ever pursuing her in the first place.

**.question.**

He pretends not to hear when she asks _do you love me?_ and she pretends not to care when he doesn't answer.

**.quarrel.**

Their fights are frequent, violent, the pettiest squabble erupting into an argument of vicious words and accusations, each one a little worse than before; they always make up in the end and, after all, isn't that the important part?

**.quitting.**

They never thought it would end like this, shouting at each other in a hotel lobby, and maybe she's a stubborn bitch, and maybe he's incurably selfish, but it's all so much easier just to blame it on Carmelita.

**.jump.**

She falters in one disgusting moment of nobility and he smirks, tightens his hold on her arms, snarling_ remember, sweetheart, you jump, I jump, that's how this works._

**.jester.**

Eventually they realize that they've been spending more time thinking up creative evil laughs and less time thinking about what they'll actually _do_ when they get to the Hotel Denouement, and they decide that "Ha!" will probably suffice for their current evil plans.

**.jousting.**

The sugar bowl or the fortune, the argument goes back and forth for what seems like ten hours, somewhere during the process her dress comes off and they find their way to the bed, but even with his lips on her neck, she still finds breath to whisper, _the sugar bowl, silly._

**.jewel.**

_It's in_, she says simply, twirling the little thing around and around her finger, making a point not to look at him as he asks why she's still wearing her wedding ring.

**.just.**

In a perfect world, she would be too good for him, too pretty, too successful, too _something_, but nothing is perfect, nothing is beautiful, _nothing_ is good, and they both know, deep down, that she's just as twisted and damaged as he is, and for that they are equals.

**.smirk.**

Months of irrational fear bubble up to the surface, _You'll go back to him just because he has money_, he hisses, and the smile she gives him doesn't make him feel any better.

**.sorrow.**

Esmé shoves the needle into Violet's veins a little too gleefully for his own liking and as he stares down at the girl on the gurney, he can't help but wish it was the bookworm's head they were cutting off instead.

**.stupidity.**

You stand, so uninvited, on her doorstep and she frowns, leaning against the doorframe, fingers dancing across the burn scars on her arm, snarling, _I hope you're not here to ask for forgiveness_.

**.serenade.**

She wakes up one night to a particularly unpleasant screeching song coming from outside her window and when she regretfully informs him the next day that all music has suddenly been deemed "out", she has to duck out of the room for a moment to hide her laughter.

**.sarcasm.**

He can't give her that idyllic, white picket fence lifestyle, and when he tells her this, in a rare moment of sentiment, she simply smiles, shakes her head, and says _Oh, honey, if I wanted that, I would've stayed with Jerome._

**.sordid.**

The sex is dirty and rough, lipstick smeared across her teeth, nails leaving trails down his back, her pretty, bruised lips whispering words in his ear that she pretends she doesn't know, the faint, small gasp as he clutches her hips hard enough to leave marks, and it's in these moments that he thinks she's the prettiest**. **

**.sojourn.**

Staying in close quarters with Esmé-and her wardrobe-for an extended period of time has taught him that their relationship might work better as a casual, no-strings-attached kind of deal.

**.soliloquy.**

Olaf has the unfortunate habit of reciting Shakespearian sonnets to himself, locked in the bathroom in the early hours of the morning, and when Esmé finds this out, she does her best over-exaggerated imitation of him to the delight and howling laughter of the theatre troupe; she regrets this a few days later when he pulls her out of bed before sunrise, places her on the edge of the bathtub to play the role of adoring audience member, and won't let her go until she's clapped enthusiastically enough for his satisfaction.

**.share.**

He divides the money into piles, one for him, slightly smaller ones for each member of his troupe, and when she peeks over his shoulder and asks where hers is, he tries not to read too much into the slightly open-mouthed gape she gives him when he says_, I thought we could…share_.

**.solitary.**

He has lots of time to think, locked in a birdcage and wearing his ex-girlfriend's ridiculous dress, about all the mistakes he's made and the (few) things he's done right, but when it comes to Esmé, he can't decide which category to put her in.

**.nowhere.**

Their attraction to each other is narcissistic at best, they're so similar it's almost like they're dating a reflection, and what hurts the most when things begin to fall apart is the realization that everything they hate in the other person is something they hate in themselves.

**.neutral.**

_Did you miss me?,_ he asks, and he isn't sure what kind of answer he's looking for, but knows that the noncommittal shrug she gives him is definitely not it.

**.nuance.**

Kit is intelligent and resourceful and strong, Esmé is vapid and selfish and…he wonders why he ever had a hard time choosing between them.

**.near.**

She has little freckles dotting the bridge of her nose, she hates them, smothers them with makeup on a daily basis, he thinks they're cute, they make her look as young as she really is when she isn't pretending to be something she's not, but he keeps quiet rather than point them out and upset her and it's only years later that he wishes he had told her how much he liked them.

**.natural.**

She makes some off-color comment-_about the Baudelaire brat, about his acting troupe, does it matter?-_and he hits her so fast that she never sees it coming; she shrugs it off the next morning, _bruises are in_, and no one dare says a word.

**.horizon.**

She stands with him on the outskirts of V.F.D., stares at the blurry town in the distance, _Time for me to go_, plants a kiss on his lips and he begins to think this whole villainous girlfriend thing might just be a pretty good deal after all.

**.valiant.**

He is stupid and disgusting, leaving on a quest he thinks is no doubt noble, messing with those goddamn orphans, and as smoke fills the hallway and begins to choke off the air, she vows she'll choose better the next time…if there is a next time.

**.virtuous.**

_She's fourteen_, she says and it's jealousy rather than concern that laces through her words.

**.victory.**

_I still think about you all the time_, she whispers, and her breath hitches just the slightest bit, and he smiles and knows that he's finally won.

**.defeat.**

In the end, none of it matters.

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**A/N:** Thanks for reading!


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